


Cain Calavriam: The Skeletal Man Of The 1910s

by THESKULLORD666



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blasphemy, Blood and Gore, Gothic, Other, Realistic, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-27 09:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21389794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/THESKULLORD666/pseuds/THESKULLORD666
Summary: An autobiography written by Cain Calavriam translated into modern-day language. You may not know who he was but he was certainly important in Fiendism. If you wish to know about him, keep reading.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "The happy family is a myth for many."  
— Carolyn Spring

My life is a living Hell. Not this limbo that most of you modern mere mortals live in, but Hell. The afeared would avaunt, the average would be ignorant and think I was some sort of animated corse (which sometimes I agree with), and the blackguards were masters of deception and ended up also being traitors. Nobody in my life was a true friend, or even a friend at all. And I was just aweary, automatic, and oh-so hollow, but I kept trying to reattach my emotions. This was my life.   
Starting from the beginning, my father left my family ever since I was accouched, I still don’t know if he expired or not. If he is alive though, I hope he’s reading this and understands what he’s done. Or maybe he did that because he was afeared of his ex-spouse, just like how I am. I don’t consider her a mom, a mom would never treat her son like this. She was more what you would call a scold or a jade. Sure, she had the body of Annie Chapman or Mary Jane Kelly, but she had the soul of an explosion. Sometimes I wonder if she was always like this or if she was made like this because of the divorce. Honestly, I don’t know because I wasn’t accouched yet, but I do keep in mind “no one ever is to blame” and “revenge instead of turning the other cheek”. My mom was such a quean.   
Going to my earliest memories, I grew up in a mansion (that my mother owned) with my family. My room had light inside which came from a white candle, paintings I have made myself were hung on the walls, a large mirror hung above my large bed, on my desk was a journal which I would write in with my feathered pen, and I actually had a bookcase that would stretch on for miles filled with books created by me or other authors. The one I was writing in the past was my first one, it was a collection of short horror stories about asylums, antiheroes, and average and relatable problems in society. I think I still have that same book in my library somewhere. I’ll check if I have it, and if I do I might just let you see a story or two.   
Anyways, yes, I was writing in a journal with a hard cover. There was a bold text on that cover which was “Classically Original Short Horror Stories by Cain Calvariam”, below that was a self-made drawing of a magician pulling a talking bunny out of a hat. I believe I have written that in my preteen years when I was just a little man, not a young man yet. The book took exactly two and a half years to finish. I was a great author who was a slight perfectionist when it came to my writing.   
Back in the day, I was a thin and bony nine-year-old with green eyes and eye-bags underneath them. I wore a tuxedo and white gloves. Although I did look scrawny, you could tell that I was alive. Everyday, I made sure I was as classy and formal as possible. I wore the most popular clothing of the 1910s but I added my own style to it. For a nine year old, I was pretty attractive.   
Nearly every day after school I made new and macabre art. My self-made pictures contained images of pentagrams, inverted crosses, and everything you think of when the word “gothic” is spoken. My writings included diaries, horrors, and a tiny bit of sci-fi. However, all included me fascinating over the morbid and blaspheming The Bible.   
The books that were given to me by my brother Badon were in the historical, poetry, and romance genres. He was a froward boy who occasionally shoplifted and stole from various stores and libraries and never returned the items. He looked rich enough to not have to do those things, especially with that blonde hair and golden digital mechanical pocket watch he carried in a pocket of his black pants, but in sooth, our mother spent most of her money on herself. The only time she spent money on us was for clothes. We basically had to drink water from drinkable lakes or rob stores that sold drinks, and steal vegetables from nearby farms. As I have told you, she’s a jade.   
One afternoon in Autumn as Badon and I were eating our vegetarian food at the kitchen table after a boring day at Inspid Elementary School, my mother Asarie tried to take a tomato from me. Badon smacked her hand away from that and told her that she had her own expensive food. That caused a 3-hour argument that included violence, cuss words, and the police even got involved. I took Badon’s side since he stood up for me, but I didn’t take part in any violence or cussing because I wasn’t that type of person. These types of arguments were normal for me, which caused me to act maturely.   
Nothing has changed for me or my family for a while. That routine was daily. Wake up, ask Badon for some vegetables and lake water, eat and drink, write in my journal, read some books, take a nap, wake up, write in my journal again, eat and drink some more, read, then sleep. If we had time, we would squeeze in a long and nonsensical argument that would only result in me getting more depressed. Only on occasions could we go into town for events.   
💀   
On one of those special occasions, my family went into town because there was a magic show in the local fairgrounds hosted by a magician named Ahab Phoen. I gladly accepted Asarie’s invitation because I’ve always been into magic, whether tricks or spiritual. Badon went with us just in case Asarie was going to do something harsh and foolish. However, it was the opposite. It turned out to be a good “happy family” moment.   
We went into our coach — a large, closed, black-colored, four-wheeled carriage pulled by a pale horse named Lith, and Lith was controlled by a coachman that Asarie hired. I always carried a sack filled with carrots so I can feed Lith after she carried us to the place we wanted to go. I had also made sure the coachman didn’t abuse Lith, and I have also named the horse Lith after the biblical female who was (according to The Bible) the first one to fight for gender equality rights. My mother would’ve preferred to keep the horse nameless because it was unimportant to her, but I loved animals. And, to be honest, I felt as if Lith was my familiar.   
When we arrived, we noticed we had to go into a large building, so we did. We then saw the magician was late so we decided to take in our surroundings. The building was decorated with beautiful red curtains, wooden flooring, black walls, and a stage which was decorated for the magician named Ahab Phoen. It was beautiful, to me at least. It was paradise.   
Later, the magician finally came on stage. The gallant wore a silver buttoned shirt, black jeans, a black top hat, and a long and thick red cape. His smile was warm and delighted to see so many people interested in magic. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the show,” he greeted, “if any dandiprats here wants to be magicians when they grow up, I have full faith in those dandiprats.” I smiled in response.   
The show had started. “Now, for my first trick, I need an assistant to pick a card for me,” Ahab said before pulling out a deck of cards. He then did “Eeena, meena, mina, mo” while trying to pick an assistant. He ended up choosing a redhead instead of me, which I was slightly disappointed about. Natheless, I still enjoyed the show.   
It almost looked special when Ahab Phoen’s hands held them. He waited until the redhead got up on the stage, and then asked her, “What is thy name?”   
To which she replied with, “Amanda.”   
“Well, Amanda, today thou are my lucky lady, for tonight thou are my worthy assistant for this particular act. As I have said before, I will be preforming a card trick,” Ahab spoke in a collage, “Now pick a card.”   
Ahab picked a card and showed it to the audience, revealing that it’s a red-and-black Joker card. Then, she gave it back to Ahab with the card’s back facing him, and added it back to the deck. The process of him shuffling the cards was almost poetic. Soon, he found the red-and-black Joker card and asked, showing the audience the card first, “Is this thy card?” The audience was astonished, and so was Amanda. Ahab smiled, satisfied that his trick had worked.   
“For my next trick, I need a child, a buck or a maiden, I don’t care,” He said putting his arms out to make it dramatic, “But it must be a worthy dandiprat.” He then pulled out a shiny, silver coin from his pocket. He looked directly at me and I smiled brightly, glad that I was picked. “Thou are my chosen one.”   
I went up on the large, decorated stage and the crowd focused on both me and Ahab Phoen. “I know know that magic sometimes likes to sneak up behind people’s ears.” He then pulled the same shiny coin from behind my ear and then did a French Drop with it. He then gestured for me to take the coin and simply said, “For Him.” I didn’t respond and exited the stage quietly brushing it off. Perhaps he knew me and my brother had no money and wanted to give him the coin.   
Then, Ahab pulled a series of colorful cloths out of his pocket. “Have thou ever heard of color magic?” Ahab asked before pointing towards the crowd, “Have thou? Or thou? How about thou?” He then gently put his hand down and stated, “Well, let me show thee.” And then, with a flick of his hand, the once colorful streamers turned into crimson streamers that almost looked like they were made out of rose petals. “That, ladies, gentlemen, and dandiprats of all ages, is what thou call color magic.”   
Finally, for his last act, he levitated in the air. His body seemed as though it was filled with helium. Although one side of me thought magic was fake, another thought that some of it could be real. I slowly and softly clapped my hands with anticipated amusement, trying not to distract or interrupt his incredible performance. However, levitating came with a risk — heights, and if he did the trick incorrectly he would end up falling.   
In the end, he was safe as a magician could be. He, of course, — like an average yet great magician — thanked us for coming. “Thank thee for coming, may we see each other again some day.” Then he went backstage with the items he brought with him and that was the last I had ever seen of Ahab Phoen. Natheless, I was still interested in illusion and occult magic. I was, will, and will always be a magician.  
And that was a reality for me.


	2. The Holy Trinity Of Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two of this autobiography

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I’d like to ask Cain Calvariam if I did something wrong because his way of life is just a path of pure sin.” - Theresa Dogg, former teacher, Bridewell Christian School

Armageddon didn’t come when it was supposed to.   
I attended Christian School when I was ten years old because Asarie was worried about me and my thirst for magic. There, Theresa tried to brainwash me to believe in things that were said by her rambling mouth. I didn’t and would never believe her because I knew better. The other children of the school thought that her ramblings were fact instead of fiction, most likely because their mind also believed in foolish children’s tales and jump-rope rhymes.   
Armageddon was another name for the end of the world. Apparently, if you accepted Jesus, then when Armageddon comes you can be raptured, and all Christians would ascend to Heaven. However, if you denied Jesus, you would be left behind. Being saved practically filled them with glee, dead but in Heaven and freed from suffering.   
Not only that, but Theresa made sure that the students saw me as a sinful and froward person. When she saw me using a pendulum in class, she explained that magic was another term for sin and that if I continued then I would be burned in the lake of fire along with the other sinners. After that, the children would agree with every rumor about me being a “sinner” or something around those lines. They would also try to avoid me as much as possible by excluding me. I was filled with hatred and loneliness at that time when, even without the influence of Christian School, my life was already chaotic due to puberty.  
Evidence of this were more body hair and acne but luckily they were only in places people wouldn’t notice them, minor body odor but thankfully I showered, a deeper voice, intense emotions caused by hormones, and other gross things. Puberty is said by many humans that it is the worst time of your life, and I agree with it sometimes. Sometimes, I can relate to others. And another relatable thing is the confusion during puberty because so many things are happening both mentally and physically. It was a time of growth, but it was also a time of awkwardness and annoyance.   
Not only did she accuse me as being a sinner, but she accused other non-Christians as being sinners as well. She would explain that Catholics and Episcopalians are sinners because they worshipped false idols including the pope and Virgin Mary. Atheists would be sinners too because The Bible depended upon faith. Others were sinners because they, too, worshipped false idols. Sometimes she’d start her class by questioning the students’ religions and spiritualities. I would sit there wondering if her side-job was being a Nazi, as other students glared at me like I was a bad person.   
More embarrassment came during Friday assemblies, when guest speakers would talk about how they had lived as whores, drug addicts and people who dabbled in black magic until they found God, chose His righteous path and were born again in His name. It was, in sooth, probably the most humiliating moments of my life because I beheld magic practitioners who became Christians. I would never become one of those, and I would make sure of that. When they were done talking, they would pray to God. If anyone wasn't born again in His name, the pastor of the seminar would ask them to come up on stage, hold hands, and be saved. Some students would actually do that if they felt like they were behind.  
After school, I would come into my closet and do a daily spell. I had to hide my "occult magic infused with illusion magic" magic from Asarie, because if she knew about it they would tell Theresa and she would torture me even more. Luckily, my closet was big enough for a whole altar and myself to fit. Sure, my spells might be monochrome and quiet - but that was my personality. They also had to be modest and simple because I only used stuff that was already in the house. I would either preform my spells immediately when I came back into the house or when everyone in the house was asleep. My spells usually began with calling upon a forest deity and ended with a sacrifice to repay the deity. I usually called the forest deity The Forest since I didn't know what else to call it.  
The Forest was one of the wisest creatures I’d ever met. During those times, I couldn’t see Him because I couldn’t open my third eye, but He would respond by doing simple actions to let His presence known. Whenever He came, the aura in the room would become quite earthly and dirty like the woods where He came from and He is.   
Every week, I would go in the woods right before I came home to collect the natural resources that corresponded to Him. Rocks, leaves, twigs, acorns, mud, grasses, flowers, weeds, dirt, and sometimes even small logs. The items were His and were part of Him because He is a God, a real and true God unlike the one they were teaching me in Christian School. After I collected them, I would carry them and walk home. When I arrived home, I would stuff them in my closet and hide them. Asarie never noticed.  
Christian School was getting harder and harder every day. People would often scream, pass out, and speak in tongues all around me. Along the walls of the school were pictures depicting gruesome scenes like The Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse, affrighting creatures, and various demons. The school’s time was a maximum seven, and if I fell asleep, they’d take me to a separate room where they held special youth seminars. Here, they’d chastite me and a bunch of rebellious other kids about sex, drugs, magic, and the material world until we were ready to puke and pass out. We would be tired and they intentionally wouldn’t give us any food until we were vulnerable. The experience was always unpleasant, but I went to church because I was forced to by Asarie.  
Asarie was one of the worst mothers that ever lived because she would force me to believe that my spirituality was a sin. She proved that by taking me to this Christian School, which was more of a prison than a school at all. Forcing your child to be a certain religion is as bad as child abuse. However, she did both. The only one that didn’t attend Christian School was my brother Badon, but he did experience child abuse with me.  
I would continue to sneak in homemade pendulums, homemade Ouija Boards made from paper, homemade potions made from water and other magical properties, and so forth. When nobody paid attention, I would use them to try to contact The Forest or any other spirit who wished to be contacted by me. I would never fit in with the rest of the school, or even of society itself. Being unique and different was hard, especially when people thought you were either a sinner or a pure froward person. When you’re different, they label you and put you in a box, and once they get you in that box, the next one will be in the ground.  
After one horrible day at school and too many bad things happening, my mind was in full rage about Christianity. It was obviously clear that the pain they were praying to be released from was a pain they had brought upon themselves, and now their children. The monster they lived in fear of was really themselves - it was man, not some mythological beast, that was going to destroy man in the end. And this beast had been created by their fear of the world ending because of themselves.  
“Idiots aren’t born gullible,” I wrote in my notebook during class that day. “They are made that way by institutions such as Christianity.” During dinner that night, I practically begged Asarie to remove me from this Hell called Christian School. However, she simply declined, and no matter how hard I begged her, she would ignore me.   
So pure rebellion set in. At Bridewell Christian School, it didn’t take much to rebel. This was going to be easy for me because the place was highly strict. They even had a book on their rules, and there was over a hundred of them. They would get upset at the smallest of things. They weren’t getting their students prepared for the real world either, trying to make them expect that everyone was equal. We would never be equals.   
Starting at age eleven, I embarked on an ever-increasing campaign to get expelled from school. It began, easily enough, with revealing my spiritual items more. Every time someone looked at me, I made sure they saw me practicing magic, that way they would tell the teacher because I knew this room was filled with tattletales. I also used the overs of my notebooks as Ouija Boards by drawing letters, numbers, words, and occult symbols on them with my pen. I’ve also been bringing athames with me too, that way whoever glared upon me would think that I would end up cutting them, even though I never would. I wouldn’t bring any more potions with me simply because I didn’t want the magical liquid to spill all over the place.   
At school, I made sure people knew that the “sin” called magic was in the air. Instead of carrying my sacred athame where I carried the rest of my items (whether magical or for school) I carried it in my left hand. Apparently, left-handed people were the devil’s minions. I, in fact, was a left-handed person and I was proud of it. I could almost feel that my athame’s energy agreed with me.  
I also held services of my own during lunchtime. If someone wanted to contact a spirit, to know what their future is, or something else that deals with magic; all they had to do was ask me for one and pay the price for it. Some kids were brave and came to me in times of need. I made a fortune - at least twenty dollars in total. Then a snitch narced on me. I had to turn in all my money I had made to the authorities. Unfortunately, I was suspended instead of expelled from school.  
My second action was a book called What Christianity Doesn’t Tell You. Inside were pages of pure blasphemy, listing everything wrong with The Bible and why you shouldn’t be a Christian. The first and obvious one was that Nazis are Christians, and Nazis were well-known during that time. The second one was how the Biblical God was a manipulative villain. Other pieces of information were also kept inside the book. I sold it for a dollar, which was pure profit because I had been writing the book during class with paper and pen. What Christianity Doesn’t Tell You caught on fast, and it even turned a few Christians into Atheists or they turned to a different religion. However, I was once again narced on.  
The Principal, Alleluia Praye - a prissy, pink, princess-like woman - called me into her office, with a room full of administrators were waiting. She shoved the book into my hands and demanded that I explain the blasphemy about God, The Bible, and everything about Christianity. I was so sick and tired of Asarie, Alleluia, and Theresa, what I sometimes liked to call “The Holy Trinity Of Girls”. In annoyance, I threw the book up in the air, thus making it destroyed. From a corner of the room, she picked up a whip and I was given four sharp Christian whips.  
Afterwards, I didn’t know what to do. It seemed like I would never get expelled from this hellhole. However, I would not give up, because someday if I do the worst thing imaginable in the School, my wish might be granted. During Friday assemblies, the maidens kept their purses under the chairs they sat in. When they bowed their heads in prayer, I would drop to the floor and steal their lunch money, causing the same famine Asarie gave to me. If I discovered any love letters, I’d give them to the people they were about, that way I would also cause hatred and wrath.  
💀  
I had already been practicing magic tricks for years, which was one of the main reasons why I was put in this School in the first place. So, as my ultimate action, I decided to start making money off of it. The person who found a talking bunny in the middle of the road was Abraxas Nomed, and he lent me the adorable leporidae. The rabbit looked like a ball of fuzzy dull-brown fur, and it felt like it was the softest rabbit in the world.  
“Who are thou?” I asked the soft creature in my hands when I was in my bedroom afterschool. “And can thou really talk?”  
“My name is Lepori, dude.” Was the reply.  
I wasn’t creeped or freaked out, but I was rather astonished. This was more amazing than any magic trick in the book. I had no idea there were such things as talking rabbits. Perhaps I could do something with this one, maybe make a new magic trick of my own. I had a large variety of options, I could make him vanish or maybe I could even pull him out of something. A box? A top hat? My own tuxedo if there’s a space large enough? The last option didn’t seem like a good one, because the viewers would know the rabbit is in there and it would spoil the trick. I had finally made up my mind.   
“Well, Lepori. How do thou feel about being pulled out of a hat?”   
“Freakin’ incredible, dude.”  
Lepori could become annoying, but overall Lepori The Rabbit was as adorable as a rabbit could be. Hopefully, the children at School could love Lepori and the staff of the School hate me so much that they expel me. However, I worried for Lepori’s safety because they would sacrifice an animal if they sinned, so you could imagine the thousands of animals that died each day by the hands of Christians. Sometimes, I felt like Christians and other animal abusers should be treated like how they treat their animals, with physical abuse and psychological torture. Sometimes, I felt like “The Holy Trinity Of Girls” deserved that as well. I was their animal, and they were my animal abusers.  
On the day of the magic show, I dressed as fancy as one could be. I wore a top hat, black pants, a black coat, a white dress shirt, a black necktie, black shoes, and a black magic wand with white tips. I had Lepori inside my hat the whole time, and he hold onto my head tight. Before lunchtime, I asked for a hall pass, which Theresa fortunately accepted, and I prepared for the magic show. I decorated the stage they used for Friday assemblies with my magical items, not unlike the ones Ahab Phoen used. Me and the stage ended up being both handsome and classy.  
The show was an overall success because everyone in the school saw it while eating their lunch. Since the show was unauthorized, I hoped I could finally be expelled. And plus, this wasn’t in The Bible — but they also said that magic tricks were sinful because they promoted fans to practice black magic. As you could tell, every Christian hated every aspect of me. However, I was a flawed hero, an icon for the forbidden, what you modern-day folks call an antihero.  
And in my show, I had saved the best for last.  
“Are you ready, Lepori?” I asked-whispered the cute creature.  
“Yeah, dude.” Was a faint response I heard in my top hat.  
I then gave a great posture, light as a feather and stiff as a board, and collogued dramatically, “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and children of all ages, I am about to show you some real magic here. I am about to pull the cutest little bunny from my top-hated top hat, and I’m going to advertise real witchcraft, because there is no such thing as black and white magic. Take a look at what it really is.” I then put my hat down onto the table, waved my wand around, and gently pulled Lepori The Rabbit out of my hat. Some of the audience members gave an “aww” to his adorableness. Others looked bloodthirsty and seemed like they wanted to sacrifice him.  
However, the rest of my show immediately stopped because another dandiprat narced me. Once again I found myself face to face with Mrs. Praye and a group of administrators and disciplinarians in her office. But this time I didn’t have to explain the show - they already thought they knew what it was all about. They had caught me sleeping in class several times (that’s why I was brought into that separate room a lot, but what more could they do to me?), continuing to do Filthy Lucre, enjoying the company of people who weren’t very different from me, and talking to make others laugh. In their world, humor was a sin, having friends was a sin, money was a sin (even if it involves needing it because Asarie won’t let you have any of it or anything at all), and making sure getting enough sleep was a sin. Pretty much everything was a sin if it didn’t involve worshipping God. I had been punished in the principal’s office twice in the past few weeks. But all of that still couldn’t expel you from this School.  
To my disappointment, nobody said anything about the magic show in School the next day. Theresa and Alleluia didn’t mention it either, instead Theresa continued disciplining and instilling the fear of God in the Christian School. That’s when I realized that I would never be expelled. Half the students at Bridewell Christian School were from poor families, and the School received a pittance from the state to enroll them. I was among the rich kids, and they wanted the money - even if it meant dealing with all of my crazy shenanigans. I knew that if I ever wanted to get out of Christian School, I would have to exercise my own free will to walk away. And two months afterwards, I did just that.   
💀  
I laid on my bed, hands propped behind my head, eyes opened, as I stared at the wall in front of me, deep in thought. I would be traveling with my family to Ohio, and I had decided to spend my last night here alone, reflecting on the past years. Everything was easily packed in a bag, and it was quick because I didn't have much stuff. Bridewell Christian School had prepared me well for public school. It defined the cons, then held them away at arm's length, leaving me reaching for them desperately. As soon as I switched Schools, it was all there for the taking - sloth, Filthy Lucre, sins, the occult. I didn't even have to look for them, they found me in the end.   
When I looked back on my first days there, all I saw was a baby being born out from a wretched woman who was doomed to be prideless as long as he was there. Not until my last days did I have high self-esteem, even a little bit of magic in him. The final night in the small town, I knew that Cain Calavriam was dying and I was bestowed a second chance to be reborn, for better or worse, somewhere new. But what was obvious is that corruption and enlightenment were inseparable, so it was both.


	3. Holly Ivy Can Kill A Sinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three of this autobiography

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Holly Ivy stands for weakness and femininity." - Gwen Bruno

By the end of the second week in public school, I knew I was doomed once again, just in a different way. Not only was I starting late into sixth grade, but after my second day in class I was forced to take another two weeks off. You see, I had a severe allergic reaction afterschool due to Holly Ivy. A red rash had broke across my entire left arm and hand, and was spreading like wildfire to my entire body. The doctor told me that the reaction was so bad that I could have died, all just because of a Holly Ivy leaf. Even the smallest of things could have done the deadliest of actions.  
💀  
I had been playing out in the woods. I usually did this daily, even in a new place, but I felt like the woods was where I belonged. I felt a deep connection with the woods and the element Earth. I would view each and every single forest as if it was enchanted by a divine and higher power. It allowed me to bury my negative energies into it while allowing me access to Its limitless energies. The forest was undoubtedly beautiful.  
I took two deep breaths as I sat crisscrossed on the dirt of The Forest. I could feel my own energy coursing through my body. I focused on my heart and visualized a green glowing light there. The green energy descended into The Forest's dirty ground. Then, it somehow, both physically and mentally, grew into a tree. I tried to touch what seemed to be red berries, and once I did my finger accidentally received a puncture from one of its leaves all the way to a bone. My whole hand reacted by getting a rash, and immediately afterwards it started itching and spreading like crazy.  
I ran home as I screamed for help, "BADON! BADON!"  
I immediately banged on the door, hoping for someone to let me in as I continued screaming Badon’s name. Two milliseconds later, he let me inside. I was speaking so fast, but I wish he could understand what I was saying. Fortunately, he did. “BADON! ITHINKI’MHAVINGANALLERGICREACTIONTOSOMETHING!” After I said that, the rash already went past my wrist and was going to my arm.   
“Oh, my god,” He spoke, calmer than I was but still worried.   
He then ran to get Asarie, and she fortunately came with us. We opened the door, ran outside, locked the door, and ran into the coach. There, Lith sped like crazy to the hospital, understanding that this was an emergency. Basically, a whole lot of speed and running went on until I was at the waiting room. My rash already broke across most of my left arm and hand. There, we waited for my turn.  
When the doctor called my name, he brought me into a separate room. Despite him reeking of death and having a soothing voice, he even looked worried for my sake. We didn’t have anything as strong as antihistamines back in the day, but we had something similar. As I walked into the room, I saw bottles of medicine and other liquids and herbs in small jars, which sat on a nightstand near a single cot. Instead of being bright and welcoming, the room had an eerie feeling to it.  
“Hush, hush, now,” The doctor ordered in a calming tone, “Lay down on the bed, stay still, and do not fret.”  
I obediently did as I was told. I didn’t very much like doctors because they could be creepy at times, however they can also save your life, so for me doctors were both good and bad. I just didn’t wish he was a murderer, because that happens a lot. I guess I had a minor case of latrophobia. However, this doctor seemed to stand out from the others, similar to how I was standing out in Christian School except that he liked being a doctor unlike how I didn’t like being forced to be a Christian.  
His soft blue eyes locked onto mine for a short second, as if he was trying to make a bond with me. Then, his eyes went to my left arm to inspect what and how it needed the help of medicine. His face then had a look of realization. “This seems like a major case of an allergic reaction. Is it not?”  
“Cain told me that he was having an allergic reaction to something,” Badon spoke for me.  
The doctor than asked me, “Oh? Then what is the allergen? Where thou outside or inside?”  
“Outside,” I simply said.  
“Plants? Animals? Pollen? Insects? Mold? Anything?”  
“I believe it was a plant.”  
“Which type?”  
“I honestly have no idea. But I can describe it. It seemed to have red berries, but they weren’t exactly berries. The leaves were incredibly sharp and ended up puncturing me.”  
“I believe ‘tis called Holly Ivy.” The doctor mixed some of the herbs from the small jars and other special ingredients into a container, preparing it for me. “Can thou tell me anything else?”  
I was worried that if he knew that I practiced the occult, he might treat me like how the Christian kids treated me in school. If he knew I was outside doing something that was considered a sin, he would think I was crazy. Maybe he would even report me to the police. So, I did the only thing in my mind that I could do. Just don’t give any more information. “No, that’s about it.”  
The doctor then eyed me suspiciously, knowing I was hiding something. However, he knew I didn’t want to talk about it, so he kept silent. When he was finished creating the ointment, he ordered gently, “Please, take this and put this on. It will help the problem. Luckily for thou, thou came here just in time so thou wouldn’t die.”  
Again, I obediently did as I was told. I looked to my arm and noticed my entire left arm was now just a red rash. Once I put it on, however, it took it away. “Thank thou, doctor.”  
“Thou are welcome,” he responded.  
When I was about to leave the room with the rest of my family, the doctor stopped me. He whispered, “I know what thou did. And, I happen to do that as well.” He then handed me a glowing energy, green like life. “Take this with thou too, it can heal the sick, resurrect the dead, make the depressed happy again, and do many other positive wonders in both thys and others lives.”  
“But what about thy magic?”  
“Oh, that magic thou are holding right now? I have more with me. I’m fine. Thank thou for asking, though.”  
I simply nodded and walked out with my family, another good experience with another good person. In fact, I think he might have removed my fear of doctors. This event replaced my latrophobia with botanophobia, though this was rational. I knew now that I was highly allergic to Holly Ivy and should stay far away from it as possible. I hope this never happens again.   
💀  
Afterwards, I had made one friend and one enemy at school. The friend was Zazeo Kigam - a male brunette with an inverted-cross necklace and an onyx ring - a practitioner of magic of both the forbidden and unforbidden who taught me some of the things I know now. The enemy was Sariella Herdsman - a hot maiden who would probably be in a high-school movie if she lived in the modern-day times - who could manipulate people by her looks. Sariella was also a Christian, which was why she despised both me and Zazeo, and prayed each and every single day that we would die quicker.  
Zazeo was more experienced with romance than I was. He knew the whole techniques of flirtation, French kissing and kissing in general, ways to please people, and other aspects of love. I, on the other hand, was the opposite. Whenever he tried to flirt with women I would look into my spellbook. It would be a major possibility for his books to be filled with love spells and rites. My locker contained more items than the Christian School allowed me to have: pendulums, spellbooks (which hid essential oils in plastic bags that way I could have them as well), playing cards, crystals, my magic wand that I have placed the green energy in, and H.P Lovecraft’s The Necronomicon. I didn’t look into his locker and he didn’t look into mine because we respected each other’s privacy, thus I couldn’t know his items.  
Despite my lack of experience and lack of wanting to learn, I was also determined to lose my virginity like everyone else. Although, I didn’t want to lose it then because I could make a teenage girl pregnant. In the 1900s, teenage girls were frowned upon in society like they are in the 2000s. I didn’t want to make a teenager pregnant and depressed. I thought that I could maybe lose it when I was in my 20s or something. Plus, we were only twelve anyway.   
Bones and allergies were completely familiar to me by that point in my life due to the hospital incident. I had several hospital incidents in my life now that I’m reading about it in my diary I kept when I was a kid. Pneumonia marred my four-to-six years, sending me to the hospital for three long stretches. I have also had a flu shot every year in my life, so that would make twelve flu shots in total. Before the newest incident with the new doctor this time, I would go to the hospital each and every single year with a look of fear in my eyes because I thought they would stick me with a needle and drain all of the blood out of me thus I could die. That’s why I had latrophobia, I wasn’t very much afraid of the doctors themselves, but rather the sharp needles they carried with them.  
One day we caught Sariella praying to God in class about making us die faster and in the most brutal ways. I was completely angered by that and so was Zazeo. She was the pure example of someone who wanted to attend Christian School but instead her parents chose for her to be in public school, so whenever she caught a non-Christian she would pray for God to curse them, and since we were the most non-Christian students in the school she mainly cursed us. Making matters worse she was among the popular kids because she was so hot, meaning that she could easily manipulate anyone to do her bidding. Afterwards, me and Zazeo formed an alliance against her, and began devising ways of tormenting her. Zazeo used black magic and I used other methods of pain. That’s how we became friends.  
I had soon learned that despite him being a romantic that we had a lot of similarities: we both were hated, rumored about, practiced magic, and were rebellious against certain people. I sometimes even sneaked out of the house just to practice magic with him (his parents were more accepting), and I would bring Badon on special occasions. We started doing cartomancy with tarot cards and playing cards while Badon watched because he didn’t exactly believe in magic but he still supported me. Badon still remained a good example of a great big brother. Nothing really has changed in my family.   
Finally, I mustered enough courage to watch him preform a curse. I wasn't going to do it with him, I wasn’t that type of person. That dark night, Zazeo lit a candle with a match and added it to the rest of the black candles to form an inverted pentagram, and lit one more candle to put inside with him. He held a drawing of Sarielle over the flame to make it burn. As he did so, he chanted, “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a foot for a foot, and a life for a life!” He held it there until it was completely turned to ash, and for some reason he didn't get burned in the process.  
The very next day, there was reportedly a fire in the Herdsman's household before school had even started. The family had survived but some serious injuries happened. I smiled, the magic had worked! Two weeks later, Sariella came back to school with a deformed face and body as well as uneven hair. She could no longer turn students into her henchmen because of what Zazeo had did. She was the sacrificial goat now due to her ugliness instead of me and Zazeo due to our magic. She prayed to God more often, not only to curse me and Zazeo, but to help her get her life back on track. It never worked, because praying is not as effective as doing.   
I didn't talk much to Zazeo after that, but we still kept in touch. He became less of a friend and more of an acquaintance. Rarely, I would go to him if I needed him to curse an enemy of mine. That boy always had tricks up his sleeve. He always did bad things for the right reasons, just like me. Except that he was and always will be a romantic.


End file.
